


Two to Tango

by eyemeohmy



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: M/M, Mild Sexuality, Minor AOE spoilers, Profanity, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 15:30:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1904238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/pseuds/eyemeohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little fraternizing with the enemy isn't <i>too</i> bad. ... Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two to Tango

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I wrote this fic kind of out of it and not entirely sure what the Hell was going on, so if you're a little ??? while reading it, you're not alone, friend(s).
> 
> Events take place some time before AoE. Fic inspired by [this lovely drawing by mamonna](http://mamonna.tumblr.com/post/90775764715/thebunsart-you-are-not-alone). It's not a direct response but more so a "thank you so much for this I was inspired to write something (mostly nonsensical) because of it"; [Play With Me by the Thompson Twins](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FY_9E3EXwN4) was also hugely inspiring.
> 
> So. Yeah.
> 
> Also, I imagine Crosshairs as being foul-mouthed. He's been around Hound for too long.
> 
> Please excuse any grammatical/spelling mistakes you may find.

"Shitfuck."

Crosshairs had to admit--for a race so tiny, fragile, easily frightened, and volatile--humans had a colorful spectrum of profanity. He admired some of the creativity behind certain words, but didn't understand most of the references. What, exactly, was a "pissbaby" and what, exactly, was a "bastard"? But "fuck" was one of his favorites--it could be used for anything. Expressing disapproval ("Who the fuck touched my custom Browning BLR Lightweight rifle!"), surprise ("What the fuck!?"), or even rejoicing ("Fuck yeah!").

But beyond that, humans were just plain annoying. Especially when they were hunting you down for no good Goddamn reason; racist punks lumping Decepticons and Autobots together, as if they forgot who fought to protect them back in Chicago and all the battles prior.

Chose a bad time to come to Earth. Goddammit.

"Fuckin' A," Crosshairs grumbled. What the "a" stood for, he did not know, but that was neither here nor there. The Autobot peeked out around the giant rock formation he was currently taking shelter behind. Those stubborn humans were still scouting the area, toting their tiny guns, helicopters scanning for signs of life above.

Crosshairs knew it was inevitable they'd eventually smoke him out, but...

Sneaking around like this-- Fah! Crosshairs would have just gone out there and mowed down that poor pathetic excuse of exterminators if not for the fact he'd rather preserve his ammo. Humans weren't worth it; plus, he mused, it'd be kind of unfair. Bringing a gun to a knife fight, that's what humans said--except the gun was a giant laser beam that shot plasma and the knives they were carrying were more equipped attacking loaves of bread. Nonetheless, he kept one sidearm blaster equipped.

Crosshairs snorted quietly. Rolled his toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other. Dammit, this was getting tedious, and, quite frankly, really boring.

That was until five rockets blew up the boulders he was hiding behind. Crosshairs yanked on his goggles, flipped and rolled away, missing a spray of bullets. Most bounced off his metal hide with loud, rhythmic pings.

"What the Hell? Are you throwing _pebbles_ at me?" Because--bullets, seriously? Cemetery Wind had already garnered a reputation as a "force to be reckoned with" among both Autobots and Decepticons. But you'd think they would have learned by now that bullets were more often than not just plain useless.

And Crosshairs was half-tempted just to stroll off the battlefield; he hardly felt threatened. But then the tanks were riding over the hills, and helicopters above were shooting _slightly bigger_ bullets, and, well, it took another deadly close miss of a rocket to the groin to snap Crosshairs into action and take things a bit more seriously.

Crosshairs equipped both sidearm blasters, aimed. "Back," he shot one helicopter, "the fuck," then the second, before training his guns on the nearest tank, "off!" The helicopters came crashing to the ground; one collided with a tank, both exploding into flames. Nearby officers scattered, but did not stop their assault.

The hail of bullets continued, increasing, and now that Crosshairs had enough loaded in his seams, he could see how the little buggers were not nearly as worthless as he initially thought. "I'm a fuckin' Autobot, you dumbasses!" He fired his guns at the first line of men charging in; some went flying, others fell. Didn't care if there were casualties. He shot down a second group before they could launch a missile aimed for his face.

"I'm the good guy!" Crosshairs snarled over the roaring hail of guns and missiles. He twisted aside, dodged a blast from a tank. Guns whirred as they powered up. "You keep pissin' me off, an' this turns from self-defense into a murder spree!" He paused after destroying another tank. "... But I'm still the fuckin' good guy, assholes!"

One bullet shattered the red lens of his goggles. "Shit." Crosshairs lowered his guns--and made a run for it. Shit. He could feel the case shells of the fired bullets rattle and grind in his gears. Cemetery Wind immediately pursued, guns a-blazing.

"Shit." Crosshairs stopped, whirled around, coattail armor whipping against his frame. They were closing in on him.

Crosshairs looked down at his hip. 

"Dammit."

The Autobot removed his remaining gas bomb; with furious snarl, he ripped the pin off with his teeth before pitching it at the approaching army. Once it struck the ground, the bomb exploded into giant clouds of purple gas; the attacks stopped all at once, and Crosshairs took a brief moment to admire his handiwork: the loud coughing, hacking, screaming, the thump-thump-crunch of what was possibly a helicopter crashing.

Ah, bless.

"See ya!" Crosshairs gave a mock-salute before hightailing it out of there as fast as he could.

Crosshairs got about a half-mile before he noticed the warning ping from his defense matrix. His right leg was feeling a little numb. He stopped, looked down; a few of the bullets had shredded a fuel pump in his leg, and whatta know? He was leaking energon.

"Those freakin'--" The Autobot scowled, tugging off his busted goggles. He knelt to assess the wound up close.

Well, could be worse, he told himself. Cemetery Wind was rumored to have some sort of secret weapon of mass destruction. Their supposed ace up their sleeve that actually did all the work for them. Maybe they were just decoys; but surely whatever super soldier they had working for them would have appear--

Crosshairs shrieked as the blast just barely scorched his back. The explosion was hard enough to send him flying. He rolled along the ground before leaping onto his feet, ignoring the slight pain in his leg. He winced, touching the burning welts on his back.

"I'm usually not one for surprises, but felt I should congratulate you."

Crosshairs slowly raised his head, optics squinting. The giant Cybertronian was making his way toward him from across the empty desert field. Moving with heavy footfalls, fists swinging slightly at his sides; plating finished shifting on his face, revealing something much more humanoid.

"You have lasted much longer than your former comrades," Lockdown stated. "Congratulations, Crosshairs."

Crosshairs saw no Decepticon insignia--no Autobot one, either, for that matter.

Crosshairs slowly grinned. "Ah," he chuckled, standing. "You must be the human's secret weapon. Did they sic you on me, or didja come on yer own?" He folded his arms. "Their precious rabid Cybertronian dog. You must be real proud."

Lockdown said nothing, continuing his way over.

Crosshairs remained calm, running a quick scan over his current armory. Sidearm blasters still had some juice; spare hand-gun, fully-loaded rifle, and ax with a retractable blade. Good. "I gotta give you credit, though," he added, "workin' with a buncha kids. Or should I say, _for_ a buncha kids."

"Inferior as they are, they serve their purposes," Lockdown stated. He stopped, the two Cybertronians ten feet apart. "But I'm afraid your kind are proving to be the bigger nusiances. All these temper tantrums and kicking up dust have caught the Creators' attention. They are very, very disappointed, to put it lightly."

Crosshairs chuckled. "Well, we're still a young race, yea? Teenagers. It's a phase. An' one that'll end once we Autobots wipe out the Decepticons. You an' everyone else like you included."

Lockdown's face was blank, void of emotion. "You're all alike. Decepticons, Autobots," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Failing to notice the _real_ threat."

"So mommy an' daddy sent you t'ground us?"

Lockdown cocked an optic ridge. "Something like that."

Crosshairs snorted, still grinning. "Well," he said, "'fraid I won't go down so easily."

"None of you ever do," Lockdown replied.

"Yer lucky I saved the best for last," Crosshairs said, quickly equipping his sidearms. "I'd say I came here t'kick ass an' chew toothpicks an' I'm all outta toothpicks, but that'd be a lie." He clenched the edge of the toothpick between his teeth. "Like my power packs here, I got plenty t'spare."

Lockdown smirked. "Earth language quite fits your abrasive personality, Crosshairs."

"I dinnit take you for a talker," Crosshairs admitted, eying the bounty hunter. "Shoot 'em up, ask questions later. Nice."

Lockdown sniffed. Even facing down the barrel of two guns, he sure was casual and relaxed. "The truth is," he explained, "I've been wanting to meet you for some time now. I know of your reputation as something of a meticulous mech with both an extensive knowledge of ancient as well as up-to-date Cybertronian weaponry. An aficionado, if you will. But, despite your crass demeanor," and Crosshairs smirked, "you're a very calculated, smart 'Autobot.' Usually those with interests such as yours tend to be the--as you say--'shoot 'em up, ask questions later' type." One corner of Lockdown's frown twitched. "I admire your skills."

"I'm the whole package, Mr. Broody; brains and brawn, and may I add, even a little beauty," Crosshairs sneered. "But this is bad news for you, don't you think? I may not be a combiner or Metrotitan, but I'm packin' a lot of heat, y'see." He winked. "Wanna take a peek under the ole 'robe'?"

"You'd make a fine hunter if you went through some... extensive training," Lockdown replied, still not afraid.

"Flattered, but ain't no mercenary. Money's sorta useless here, so bribes ain't gonna work." Crosshairs paused. "Though sure you got a nice arsenal on you an' yer ship, wherever it is. That forcefield device makes me think you got a lot-a pretty toys. It's almost temptin', you know?" He wiggled his optics ridges. "Show me yers, I show you mine."

Lockdown smirked. "Had I any use for you alive, I would be glad to take you on a tour," he said, and that wiped the smug grin from Crosshairs's face. Just a second or two, however, before it returned.

"S'okay," Crosshairs reassured, cocking his guns, "I'll check 'em out after I've taken _you_ out." No more banter, then--Crosshairs immediately fired both guns at Lockdown, blasts rotating out of various cylinders.

The blasts simply bounced off Lockdown's forcefield, however.

Crosshairs gaped, toothpick hanging from his mouth.

"I said I knew your reputation, Crosshairs," Lockdown stated, the invisible wall surrounding him shimmering briefly. "You're an expert shot, and honestly I'd rather not go back to my ship with a few bumps and bruises, no matter how minor they would be."

"I didn't peg ya for a coward!" Crosshairs snapped. He continued firing more rounds, hoping to break through the forcefield. It might have been futile, but he had to try.

"What a pity for you that you can't make a run for it," Lockdown said, his facial features shifting. "What with that bum leg." He looked down once before his optics disappeared, entire face replaced with a giant cannon.

Crosshairs widened his optics. " _Whoa_."

As he raised his gun to fire--forcefield or not--Lockdown shot first. The blast knocked the weapon from his right hand, obliterating it. Crosshairs rolled away; Lockdown turned his head, following, cannon locked and loaded-- Crosshairs shrieked as the blast tore through his right shoulder, spraying out energon and shrapnel.

"Goddamn!" Crosshairs snarled, struggling onto his knees. He clasped a hand over his gaping, bleeding wound; looked up just as Lockdown's face transformed back into smug green optics and a small grin. "That was... pretty damn impressive."

"I thought you'd like it." Lockdown shook his arm; armor shifted, forming into another cannon. However, this one Crosshairs knew was... different. "It's time to join your brothers, Crosshairs. Our meeting was brief, and for that I apologize. But pleasure aside, it's now time for business. Before I kill you, tell me--where is Optimus Prime?"

Crosshairs hissed painfully as he drew to his feet. He threw his arms up, crossed them over his face as Lockdown thrust a fist into them. Crosshairs fell back, stumbled; twisted aside, missing a second blow. The third blow connected hard with his jaw, a minor actuator snapping as it unlocked. He fell to the ground again; as Lockdown went to pick him up, Crosshairs quickly equipped another gun, firing at the bounty hunter's face.

"Go figure," he growled; the shield simply absorbed the blasts. Crosshairs grunted as Lockdown kicked the gun easily off his arm. He tried to use his spare, but his shoulder wound slowed him down. The bounty hunter stepped on his hand, and made waste of the second gun as well.

Crosshairs choked down a scream, teeth grit tight enough to almost shatter.

Crosshairs groaned as Lockdown took him by his good arm, yanking him up and flush against his body. Before the Autobot could do anything, he pressed the barrel of his arm-mounted gun against Crosshairs's chest, right over his spark.

Crosshairs, however, was more amused than frightened. This close and all...

They were face to face now, and the Autobot leered. "This is... cozy," he snickered. "I get the feelin' I'm gettin' some special treatment here."

"Not really," Lockdown said, but Crosshairs wiggled when a hand swept under his coattails and cupped his aft, squeezing. "Care to answer my question?"

"O-Oh, well, see... Can't. Love to, but can't. Don't know where he is, an' honestly, don't one-hundred percent care." Crosshairs snickered, pausing. "Y'know, in a different time, in a different universe where I'm not such a nice guy," he said, and his lips were nearly brushing with Lockdown's, "we mighta made a pretty good team."

Lockdown invented, expression blank, but something told Crosshairs the bounty hunter believed him. About Optimus, that is. "Unfortunately," he said, breathing hot steam against the Autobot's cheek, "I did not wish to tell you this in the throes of battle... Your technique is off. You've lost some of that edge that kept you wise and sharp." The gun nudged against his chest, but that hand on his aft moved up to lightly caress the small of his back. "You're becoming over-zealous; soon you'll be just another mindless gun-toting, war-mongering fanatic."

Crosshairs smiled as fingers took the edge of his chin, tilting his head back.

"Such a pity; such a waste."

"Don't you sound so hurt an' offended, ya big lug," Crosshairs teased. "Did I crack that tiny, nearly non-existent spark of yers? 'Cause right now yer kind of puttin' a lot of pressure on mine."

The Autobot whimpered as Lockdown took one of his thighs, squeezing until metal buckled. "You know," the bounty hunter murmured. He gently removed the toothpick from Crosshairs's mouth, flicking it aside. "You're much more beautiful with your mouth closed."

Crosshairs grunted; despite all the flirting, he was still surprised Lockdown had pulled him into a kiss. A genuine kiss. And, well--maybe it was energon loss making him a little stupid and off-kilter; maybe it was his drive and love for adventure and risk-taking... Or maybe he just felt like being an asshole, but-- He quite happily, passionately, returned the kiss.

Let it be known that Crosshairs was never the upstanding image of an Autobot and what they should be, what they stood for. So long as he got his priorities straight and knew which side he served, no one really cared. And, come on-- Lockdown wasn't a Decepticon, so this _technically_ wasn't _entirely_ an act of treason...

 _What's a little fraternizing between enemies, anyway_ , Crosshairs told himself, lips curled into a smile against Lockdown's. _Memo to self: ask gun-face 'ere how he learned t'kiss before blowing a hole through his head. Pretty sure he dinnit have time t'immerse himself in that part of this weird culture._

Fortunately, Crosshairs had an excuse: movies, lots of movies.

The kiss broke, slow and careful. They powered up their optics, studied each other for a moment.

"Y'know," Crosshairs exvented, "yer much more beautiful with a cannon as a face."

It was a risk-- but Crosshairs liked risks. The parachutes packed away on Crosshairs's back suddenly burst free, almost draping over the two of them. Enough of a distraction for Crosshairs to quickly wrench himself free. The blast from Lockdown's arm gun blew a hole through one of the chutes, however.

"I jus' replaced that!" Crosshairs snarled. He picked up one of his fallen guns, turned it on Lockdown and fired. "An', as you said, I can't run away--" With the grinding twist of armor and plating shifting, Crosshairs transformed into his Corvette Stingray alt mode. His headlights blazed, engine furiously revving. "But I sure as Hell can drive!"

Wheels kicked up dirt as Crosshairs raced past Lockdown. The bounty hunter turned, firing rounds after him. Each blast barely missing his rear end; too fast--at least for this gun. Crosshairs knew he wouldn't last much longer, forcing himself with his injuries and still leaking wounds. Just so long as he got enough distance between him and the bounty hunter, he would be fine.

Crosshairs decided not to think about the fact that Lockdown had actually _held himself back_. It made him shiver--and not only out of fear.

Lockdown, however, did not pursue. He shook his hand, gun once more tucking back under armor. Reinforcements for Cemetery Wind made their way onto the scene just moments after Lockdown's summon.

Lockdown had bigger fish to fry, anyway.

James Savoy hung out the side of a helicopter. "He got away!?" he snarled at Lockdown over the copter's thumping blades, nearly eye level with the Cybertronian. "Did you interrogate him!? Did you even _hit_ him!? We leave you alone to do your damn job, and you can't--"

"Another time, another place," Lockdown said, quietly, ignoring the field operative's lecturing.

Both Lockdown and Crosshairs were excited for that time to come.


End file.
